Always a Warrior
by Akallabeth
Summary: As he continues to train Gohan, Piccolo begins to change as a person as well as a warrior...


Always A Warrior

Piccolo stared down at the young boy, his feelings chaotic inside of him. 

_I have never felt anything like this_, he thought in frustration. _What is wrong with me?_

He stood over the boy for a little while longer, and then launched himself for the sky. He had to clear his mind. He had to find his center, his focus, the point at which his anger and hatred made him the most powerful warrior on the planet. 

And he was now, wasn't he? Goku was dead. He'd killed the man himself. It had been a dream come true for Piccolo, to finally kill his longtime rival and nemesis...but in a way, it hadn't been. Instead of killing Goku in battle, he had killed him while he himself had been Goku's ally. The two of them had worked together and destroyed an enemy more powerful than the both of them, and that wasn't even the worst part. Piccolo had found himself marveling at the selflessness of the man. He had given his _life_ for this planet that they both valued. He had willingly died to defend his friends and loved ones from harm...and Piccolo felt almost a jealousy of Goku. He knew deep down that he would never have made the same sacrifice. He could never have given of himself so freely...so selflessly. It may have been the honorable thing to do, but a living warrior continues to fight another day, no matter how much honor a dead one may possess. Piccolo viewed Goku's honor as a weakness, but he _did_ respected it. Goku had shown more honor in that act than Piccolo could ever wish to have in his lifetime.

And the thought burnt him up inside.

"What is this I'm feeling...what is wrong with me!?" he roared, flinging a lightning bolt at a nearby rock formation. It exploded almost silently in the windy night, the rocks showering down on the landscape awaking a startled herd of deer. He watched them scatter across the field below, and suddenly felt as though he shouldn't have destroyed the pillar. He shouldn't have interrupted the peace the deer were enjoying-

"Of course I should have! I did so because I can! I am Piccolo!!" he yelled aloud, trying to convince himself that he wasn't feeling these new feelings...but he was. He did not understand them, and he did not want them, but they were there none the less. Maybe it was what Kami had called regret?

"I am not sorry," he growled, and showered a spray of deadly energy down on the deer to show his evil nature. He found it curious that his usually perfect aim destroyed none of the creatures, and only forced them farther away from the danger of the pillar. He found it curious and disturbing.

And the boy. He had never really _known_ anyone before. The only person he had ever really known was Kami...and Kami had banished him. Perhaps not in words, but in spirit. He was not welcome near Kami, and it didn't bother him a bit. The old man was worthless anyway. He couldn't defend himself. If Piccolo wanted him dead, he'd be dead.

But the boy was different. He was Goku's son, which should have made him Piccolo's mortal enemy...but it didn't. For some stupid reason, Piccolo had decided to take him on as a pupil...perhaps because he half expected the boy not to survive the initial trials. 

But he had...and he was stronger than Piccolo had even anticipated. He was a quick learner as well...and supported himself easily in the wilderness.

He was even adapting to the martial arts rather quickly. Even yesterday he had connected his first shot on Piccolo's jaw, and the bruise was still there. The man usually healed much quicker than that, but the boy's punch had been packed with that familiar power...that menacing power that Goku possessed...but this power was so much more raw and untapped. The thought of harnessing that power excited Piccolo, but for some reason, the thought of teaching the boy how to wield that power was even more satisfying. 

He _wanted_ to teach this boy. He wanted this boy to learn the secrets he held, secrets he promised himself would never fall into the hands of anyone else. And here he was, willingly giving the boy any information he could remember...teaching him his techniques. It was insanity.

He flew on, searching for a sort of peace...the peace of rage that he could usually always count on. The Earth was a place of evil, and Piccolo hated all of it. He hated everything and everyone, and he hated Goku most of all...but now he didn't. Now he respected Goku. How do you hate someone you respect? And the boy was another story...

Piccolo drifted for a while in the night air, trying to decipher the riddle in his head that had probably been placed there by that meddler, Kami. He was so caught up in finding the answer to his dilemma that he didn't notice he was above the campsite until he looked down and saw the sleeping child next to the smolderng ashes of a dying fire. He could see the boy shivering slightly in the night air, and again, a strange feeling assaulted his senses. He suddenly felt the need to do something to assuage the boy's discomfort, and before he knew it, a blast from his hand re-ignited the fire and instantly warmed the boy. 

He stared at the child for awhile, when he felt his face curl in a strange fashion...a movement he was not used to. The muscles seemed to spasm as his lips tightened and pressed together tightly, their corners sliding painfully upward toward his eyes...

"So this is what it is to smile..." he mused quietly. He looked at the boy one last time, and then flashed away toward the horizon...a small bit of wisdom invading his once-hate-filled mind. 


End file.
